Into the Imperium
by Midnightprelude
Summary: "I suspect you have questions," the Dread Wolf stated simply, familiarity gone from his voice. And she did. More than she could fit into words. He saved her from his mark. And in return, she would save him from himself.
1. The Crossroads

The pain in her arm was indescribable, not unlike the feeling when she had first used the anchor. When Solas had stretched her arm hand towards the glowing green abyss and she had willed it shut. And the rift had knitted itself together at her insistence, leaving no trace behind. She forced her eyes open and realized, panic washing over her, the elf was leaving again. He had probably saved her life, kept her preoccupied with her questions and the pain in her arm, and then waited until the very moment when she should be incapacitated to drift away from her. He had already stepped through the eluvian, under the impression that her agony would be too consuming to notice his departure.

A grim smile crossed her lips. This would not be the first time he had underestimated her.

She gripped what was left of her right arm, still disintegrating, in her left. Gritting her teeth to avoid screaming out, she stood. The movement nearly made her retch, but she knew that in a moment, he would truly be gone and even the power of the Inquisition would not bring him back. She let out a deep breath and broke into a sprint towards the glistening mirror, forcing herself to hope that she wasn't too late.

Passing through the eluvian was like running headfirst through a waterfall. It always surprised her that she didn't emerge cold and dripping. The air in the Crossroads was as she remembered—odd and still—as though it had been waiting for something. Waiting for an eternity, most likely.

There was no sign of Solas, anywhere she could see. She had to think quickly to call him back. _Solas. _Pride. Even when he was playing a different character, he wore his nature like a second skin. Always wanting to prove his superior knowledge, his vast experience in the world. She found it infuriating, but also compelling. Not to mention, alluring. She would need to insult him, even if it would leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Fen'Harel!" she shouted into the abyss. "I hope you did not believe that I would allow you to slink away from me again, tail between your legs like a frightened dog. I did not believe that an ancient elven god would cower so easily. From a shade of a person, no less."

The air in front of her shimmered, a scene she had seen during countless fights she thought they would lose. Solas had moved himself through the Fade. The elf was facing her again. She tried to hold on to her anger, but whenever she found herself looking upon him she felt the longing return. Two years and she had only seen him in her dreams. That should have strengthened her fury, but she forgot it quickly when his eyes met hers again, gray as mist in the moonlight. They reflected the same longing that she felt. She wasn't sure what she had expected when she called out, as it had been a phantom of a wish, really.

_That's precisely the problem with Solas. He never disappears for long enough for me to entirely erase him from my memory. _

"I did not think you would be able to follow me, or willing. Not after learning the truth. And you are no shade, not to me. You have not been for a long time." He said, softly. Gone was the air of superiority he had tried to force upon himself earlier, when he was playing Fen'Harel. He was tender now, delicate, as though this entire exchange could unravel at any moment. He was Solas again, the same person she had kissed in the Fade when the world was falling apart. "Can I see your arm again?"

She nodded, then felt her entire body go numb at his touch.

Magic emanated from his hand as he ran it over the air where her arm used to be. The anchor was gone now, and with it went her right arm up to the elbow. "Yes, I believe that my intervention worked. The anchor should trouble you no longer."

She frowned. "Did you think that was why I leapt after you, Solas? For a medical examination?"

He sighed, as though he could release the weight of the world with his breath. "No, not truly, I suppose. I had to check, though. I do not wish you harm. As I said before, I would seek to spare you of any pain that I can."

She felt her anger return, bile rising in her chest. "Another lie. There is a far deeper pain within your power to alleviate, but yet you choose not to relieve it."

Her words seemed to hurt him. He spoke softly again, as though forming the very words gave him grief. "Why did you follow me, vhenan?"

She stood straighter, staring directly into his eyes. "Because you owe me something, and I intend to collect on it." He nodded, urging her to continue. "I deserve your ear, if nothing else. I have listened to your counsel for years, even when you were working to deceive me."

A slight smile played across his lips, despite everything. "I rather thought you enjoyed my counsel, even when I was doing my best to withhold it."

"I did," she said, choosing not to return his smile. "But still I would have you listen."

"I am listening now."

_Damn him. _She almost wished he had disagreed with her. Turned her away. It would have made it easier to hate him, to fight him, in the end.

She cleared her throat, unsure how to begin. "From what you've shared with me, it seems as though you enjoy working alone." She paused, momentarily. "It also seems that your meddling to date has been disastrous for yourself, the elven people, and the world."

He shifted uncomfortably at that. "I did what was necessary given the circumstances. I could not predict what the consequences would be."

She continued, her voice stronger. "No. You did not predict the consequences, but you caused them regardless. You created the Veil to save Elvehnan from itself. You changed the world irrevocably, possibly even destroyed it. You gave your focus to _Corypheus_, of all thrice damned people, in an attempt to evoke some plot to restore the ancient elven civilization. He nearly broke apart the entire _world_, Solas. That was entirely your doing." He avoided her eyes, but she found herself trying to take his face in her hands. _My hand_. _Not hands anymore. I'm going to need to get used to that_. Her uninjured left hand found his cheek and guided his eyes back to hers.

"Despite all of that, despite launching us to the brink of disaster, you stayed. Where others would have fled in the face of their failings, you stayed to undo them where you could. And we did accomplish it, in the end, but it was only when you stopped trying to do everything yourself that we succeeded. You have been alone for millennia, vhenan, carrying the weight of multiple worlds on your shoulders. I would not expect you to make all of the right decisions, not when there are no answers available. Not even the wisest spirit could predict the consequences of your actions. I don't even know if this is the correct decision, even now. All I can be sure of is that we have done more good for the world together than either of us has accomplished apart.

"And apart from the world-ending implications, I need you. I would have you with me if I could. Perhaps that is selfish of me, but I have given so much of myself away that I would have this one last piece." His face had softened at that and he looked younger, somehow. She felt the sting of tears beginning to form. "If you would be so kind as to give it to me."

"I love you, as I have loved no other soul. Please do not leave me again, searching for you, trying to thwart you. You tried to save my life by removing the anchor. Do you not realize that this would kill me just as swiftly?" She gestured to everything around her, trying to express the gravity of her grief. The tears came readily now and she could do nothing to staunch them. She had not cried in his presence before, and the thought occurred to her that she was finding herself in tears in front of a _god_. Maybe not a true god, but one that her people had invoked to scare children into behaving. And here she was, a grown woman, crying to Fen'Harel. Telling him she loved him. Begging him to stay. _Perhaps the world has seen stranger things, still_.

To her surprise, she found him smiling again, though this time it was laced with sadness. Even after their time apart, she doubted he enjoyed seeing her like this. "Vhenan, I did not it possible that you would come calling after me. Not after what I've done. Not after how I've hurt you. It seems…"

"That you've been wrong about me again? About the world, _again_," she finished for him. "You really should stop coming to conclusions without consulting me. You never seem to be able to paint the entire portrait."

He nodded. "It's an odd habit you have, ferreting out the truth from a situation full of lies. Cassandra may have her faults, but I do not believe she could have chosen a more apt Inquisitor." He paused, considering. "I may be set in my ways, but I am not above reason. You are correct, I have made a mess of things in the past. I acquiesce to the possibility that a partnership may be beneficial to complete our mutual goals. Namely, not destroying the world, if we can avoid it."

Suddenly her body felt lighter than it had for over two years. Since before he left. Since before she became the Inquisitor. Honestly, she hadn't felt this way since before the Conclave.

"Then you'll come?"

He nodded, his face solemn, but his eyes betrayed his silent joy. "At least for now. I will try."

"We will try together. This is good. I'm glad it was not necessary for me to resort to my second plan."

His ears seemed to perk, like a dog who had heard a breath of something on the wind. "Oh? And what might that have been?"

She smiled, as though they were meeting in less desperate times. "If you didn't choose to come with me willingly, I would have dragged you back to Skyhold by your ear."

He feigned fear, meeting her smile with his own. "It is best for the both of us that you didn't attempt that." He stopped to brush a stray hair out from her face. "I could not imagine that you would ever forgive me for what I have done to you. I have misjudged you, again. Perhaps with training, I can become the man that you wish me to be."

She smiled up at him, tears brimming again. He moved to wipe them from her eyes, but she took care of it herself before he could reach her. "You always have been who I wanted. What I need is for you to become the man that _Thedas _needs. The man that the People need. What we will need to do is going to be much harder than simply pulling down the Veil, I'm afraid. "

"So you have a plan, then?" His face grew solemn again, crossed with lines that had momentarily disappeared.

She nodded. "I have at least an inkling. First, we need to gather allies. We already have a foothold in Ferelden and Orlais which we can use to our advantage. We will need to contact the Dalish." She caught him rolling his eyes at that.

"That's unnecessary and you look like a petulant child. You'll need to work on that if you plan to convince anyone that you're Fen'Harel. The _real _Fen'Harel."

His brow creased at the implication. "I have told you already, I am no god. None of the Evanuris were gods in truth," he said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

She smiled wryly. "How many men, even mages, do you know who can turn a foe to stone just by _thinking _of them? Besides, do you think it will really matter to the Dalish whether you're _just_ an immortal elf from ancient Elvhenan with incredible magical abilities or the Fen'Harel they've been using to frighten children for centuries? I do not think the distinction will be quite as firm as you might let on.

"Anyway, as I was mentioning, we will need allies. The Dalish could be useful, if you were willing to tell them at least part of the truth. Gifts of knowledge would appease them more than anything else. I know that they hunger for information about their past. This is something we can give easily and willingly."

He nodded. "I see. Before I met you, I would have disagreed with the idea. I realize now how foolish I probably sounded to their ears when I walked among them. I came as an outsider, trying to tell them that all they believed was false without giving them a reason to trust me. They have been told lies for centuries. That they are inferior. Untrustworthy. Outsiders. The Dalish are of the People, even if they have diverged from their original purpose. They deserve to hear their truth from one of their own."

"I'm glad you think so. The Dalish aren't the only elves we will need to contend with. There are thousands living in slums across Thedas, with little hope for a better future. We will need to change hundreds of years of perception and fear to elevate them out of their status. This will not happen overnight. And then there is the enslaved population in Tevinter."

He sighed. "They have known only chains their entire life. They would not take well to freedom now. Some would say that there is little hope for them."

She smiled and took his hand in hers. "Luckily you and I happen to be the god of rebellion and a reluctant prophet, respectively. Hope is our main form of currency." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "I would understand, however, if you would choose the simpler path and simply rip the Veil out of the sky. I would be forced to stop you, but I would understand. Changing the world is challenging work."

He shook his head gently and pressed his palm to his forehead. "If I have learned nothing else, I know that to be true. I'm assuming there are benefits to following your path, as well?"

"I don't have to track you down and try to kill you, for one. I would much prefer avoiding that if at all possible."

He raised his eyebrows, expectantly. "I must seem incredibly selfish, given I was the one who hurt you, but I must admit that I was hoping for more satisfying rewards than just simply not dying."

She pretended to consider for a moment. In truth, she would have given him nearly anything, and quite willingly. He didn't need to be made aware of that, however. Not yet. "There may be a fair bit of groveling involved, but I believe it could be possible for you to earn back my favor in time, if that is what you wish."

"All the way back to Skyhold?"

A mischievous look crossed her face. "You think that I overlooked the fact that we're currently in the Crossroads? It would take what? An hour to get back? Less? That's an entirely insufficient amount of groveling for my tastes." She smiled at the mildly dejected look on the Dread Wolf's face. "Fine. I can grant you a brief reprieve. But that doesn't absolve you completely."

"I have missed you. Ir abelas, ma vehnan. For everything, I am sorry."

"That's as good a start as any."

He pulled her close, his golden armor cool against the heat emanating from her skin. She pulled him tighter still, as though he could disappear at any moment. She looked into his eyes briefly before she brushed her lips against his. She found his mouth pushing back at her, with sudden fervor. She steadied herself as he nearly knocked her over.

_Oh, how I have missed him._

"Careful, I'm not used to kissing you fully armed. I would be prefer not to be crushed under the weight of all that gold."

He smiled again, all of the pain of his memories momentarily abandoned. He snapped his fingers and suddenly he was clothed simply again, in the robes he wore when he was still just another ally in the Inquisition.

"Did you really need to snap to do that?"

"No, it was an unnecessary gesture. But I once heard from another mage that a bit of flair often lends more to a situation than simple efficiency."

"I didn't think that you would listen to _Dorian_, of all people. Though I do suppose that explains the _golden armor _you cloaked yourself in earlier."

"Yes, on occasion even a fool can speak wisdom. It may take me several millennia, but I typically learn. Even from Dorian."

She laughed at that, gently pressing a kiss to his brow. "Let us not spoil this moment by speaking of those who aren't here. You have years of longing to make up for and I will not waste that on idle chatter."

"So you have spared a thought or two for me, then? After all this time?"

"You make it sound as though I ever stopped thinking of you." With that, she kissed him again, not exactly gently this time. She was through with civility. He may still betray her again on the morning, and they still needed to deal with the fact that he had almost gotten her and everyone else she had ever known killed, but for now, he was entirely hers. She did not intend to squander that.


	2. A Bitter Vintage

The light in the Crossroads had not changed, though they had probably been lingering in the realm for hours. Night should have begun to fall there, by her imaging. Though it was hard to mark the passage of time in this place where nothing changes. Even harder when she was with him.

Nothing more than kissing had passed between them. _I suppose that would be prudent. I am still not sure how to feel about him anymore. Everything has become… frustratingly complicated. _She leaned into his shoulder, her back against what was once an ancient spire. Moss began to grow between the cracks and was covering the ground with a soft green blanket. He shifted, looking at her again. She leaned further into his touch as he stroked her hair, his fingers running through the tangles as though he wanted to fix even that part of her.

"I suppose my respite is over," he asked, a touch regretfully. "It was more than I probably deserved."

She frowned. "I think it must be. I'm still unsure how I should approach any of this. I don't know what the right decision should be."

A small, barely noticeable smile graced his lips. "At least you tend towards making the right decision more often than not. I believe it's my decisions that need worry us, not yours."

"And what if we land on the same decision?"

"That may be the most dangerous of all," he said, the smile growing steadily. "I suppose we shall see in time."

"I think we should go back to Skyhold. The others will be waiting." She rose slowly, moving to steady herself with her right hand before remembering its absence. Solas grabbed her before she could stumble. She looked back at him with gratitude, shaking feeling back into her legs.

"I could probably fix that." He indicated her stump of an arm. "Healing magic isn't my specialty, but I could imagine how it would be done."

"Perhaps after you've practiced a bit. Preferably not on live creatures."

He looked appalled. "Living creatures are the only thing that you _can _practice healing magic with! Anything else would be necromancy."

She sighed, flustered. She should probably learn more about magic if she was to convince Solas that removing the Veil wasn't necessary. "I didn't mean that. I just don't want you to go around _making _amputees to practice regrowing limbs. And I don't want to be the first you attempt it with either."

"That's well enough, I suppose. I will not ask again until I'm sure I can mend you."

"With no complications?"

"Obviously," he replied, mildly irritated. _Odd to see a god acting petulant. Although I don't think he's had anyone contradict him for centuries, so I suppose he's gotten used to agreement._

"Let us go, then. To Skyhold."

"You should step through before me. My sudden appearance might attract unwanted attention."

She shook her head. "Do you think I'm fool enough to fall for that? No, we'll be going together. I cannot trust you in the Crossroads alone."

"Do you intend to watch me every moment of every day? I could always go back through the eluvian and vanish."

"You could do that. You _could _decide to give up on me, disappear into the void, and return to your plan of destroying the world. I would like to think you would let me know first, but I _could _see you doing that. If that were the case, I would unfortunately be forced to cross the world, hunting you. That's a terrible amount of effort and I don't have a great abundance of energy these days. I would rather you step through the portal with me and avoid any mishaps. If we cross through together, it will be clear to anyone watching that we are still allies. There are plenty within the Inquisition who will not be happy to see you again. Let's avoid mishaps if we can, shall we?"

"Well met, Inquisitor."

She looked at him curiously. "You do not need to call me that anymore. We are… I'm not sure, but you certainly don't work for me anymore. And I worshipped you, or at least a certain version of you… It's all very muddled. I'm not sure what rank would apply."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Leave the titles to Josephine. I know who you are to me. Let us go then. Skyhold awaits."

They stepped through the eluvian, the strange feeling of rippling water setting her on edge again. She wanted to hold his hand as they walked through together, but decided at the last moment that it would be ill-advised. The Skyhold courtyard stretched out in front of them, plants bursting into bloom in the crisp mountain air. It felt like going home, or at least, as close to a home as she'd had since before Corypheus.

Solas nearly walked into a loaded crossbow.

"I never expected to see you again, Chuckles." Varric Tethras turned to her then. "Do you want me to shoot him for you, Boss?"

She shook her head, trying to get between Solas and Bianca. "Stand down, Varric. That will be enough."

"We were told to expect something from the eluvian. Harding said she would get the guards together, but I wanted to see to it personally. If I'm honest, I was worried for you. I've never much liked the Crossroads—smells too much like dead civilizations for me. Besides, I was concerned about the company you might be keeping. Seriously, Chuckles. Two years and not even a letter? I even was starting to like you.

"Besides… what you did to the Inquisitor. That's just not right. And I should know."

"Varric!" The Inquisitor was shocked, though she probably shouldn't have been, by his lack of discretion. "I said enough!"

Solas lowered his head and smiled. "It is good to see you, my friend. I wish the circumstances were different."

Varric shrugged. "I gave up on anything being easy a long time ago. It's less disappointing that way. If you say you're alright, then I'll leave you to it. I think the Seeker is going to want to talk to you. Actually, now that you mention it, I imagine everyone will. I'm lucky I got to be the first, then." He looked to Solas again. "Honestly, I'm glad we didn't have to kill you. That would have been pretty gruesome, even for me."

Varric started back to the castle, humming a tune she didn't recognize.

She turned to Solas. "I would prefer not going into the main hallway right now. Let's enter my chambers through the side passageway. I don't wish to be disturbed."

He hesitated, seemingly unsure.

She noticed a slight blush appear on his cheeks. She hadn't seen that happen before. "Of course, I didn't mean that! I just would like some privacy… I can have someone ready rooms for you. Adjacent to mine, preferably. In the meantime, my room will do well enough for the both of us. It isn't like anyone in the Inquisition is unaware of our history together and gossip about our relationship may preoccupy the courtiers for a while. They get up to trouble when it isn't in abundance. Wouldn't want them asking questions that are actually useful"

He sighed, but seemed more than content following her into her bedroom.

Solas held up a stack of sketches to her. "Ah, vhenan. I did not know that you enjoyed drawing."

She felt her pale cheeks grow warm and imagined that they took on a shade of scarlet as deep as the drapery. _Shit. I had forgotten about those. _She tried to snatch them back from him, hoping to avoid any potential damage.

"They're nothing. Simple musings. Impressions. Nothing of import, really. I doubt they would be of interest to someone as talented as yourself." She motioned towards the frescoes he had painted in her chambers before leaving Skyhold. One of the last ones he had finished, before he left. She had started sketching, in truth, after he had departed. She had drawn before, mostly of plants and animals to catalogue the land her clan dwelled throughout. Once she had planned on binding a book of her drawings, as educational material. This time she had wanted to preserve him, in case the sketches would be her only tenuous connection. She had thought they would be, for a time. Part of her was still worried they could be.

"I find them all the more interesting knowing that you would hide them from me. Art is something I have a particular fascination with, but I promise that I will reserve criticism. Would you grant me your leave to look at them? I would not want to upset you unduly."

She groaned. "Fine. If you put it like that. Just don't tell Varric. Or Cassandra."

He nodded, with a feigned solemnity. "I will take your secret to the grave."

She tried to busy herself as he pored over her work. It was, thankfully, mostly pictures of their companions. She had a drawing of a buck that she completed in the Emerald Graves that she was particularly pleased with. The lighting had been perfect and that the animal had allowed her to sketch it was truly a gift.

There were others though, that she was more anxious about him seeing. Towards the back of the pile. She hoped he became distracted before then.

She had forgotten that Solas rarely ever exhibited anything even a shade close to boredom. "I believe this is a familiar countenance." He held up a sketch she had done several years ago, after they had first met. He had seemed so serious then, so consumed with a sadness that he was unwilling to share. She had noted his expressions for days, practicing, trying to get his jaw right. All while trying to avoid him noticing that she was watching. His eyes were the hardest. They were sorrowful, yes, but the hope was the hardest to convey. In the portrait, he was just standing alone atop a mountain, leaning on his staff, as though it was the only thing supporting him. His apostate's robe billowed behind him. In the image, he was powerful but alone. The scale of the scenery made him seem small. She supposed he must feel small, sometimes, given the weight of his responsibilities. That was before she truly loved him. He had just been a mysterious puzzle, one that she was only passingly interested in figuring out. Now she realized that he had been key the entire time.

She had wished he had told her earlier, but she also knew that she wouldn't have understood. Not then. Not yet.

She became more eager to distract him, the farther he got into her work. "Would you like some refreshment? I think the rest of those are pretty dull, honestly. We could go for a walk, if you wish. Or we could go find Josephine. I'm sure she has news for us."

He shook his head. "I'm quite content, actually. Besides, I think I have found something very illuminating right here." Her face blanched as his smile widened. She knew what he had seen. "I didn't realize you thought of me in such… detail."

The portrait in question included him naked from the waist up, dressed only in a simple brown pair of breeches, the laces half undone. He was standing on top of a bear pelt and gesturing to someone outside of the frame. She remembered carefully crafting the curve of each muscle until she was satisfied with the outcome. His pale skin glowed in the candlelight of the portrait, occasional freckles breaking up his expanse of skin. She had drawn him more muscular than his robes revealed, but seeing him in the Crossroads made her think that her impressions were not far off from the truth. He was incredibly fit, despite seeming to enjoy draping himself in ill-fitting rags.

"I…" she stammered. "I will take that, if you don't mind."

He bowed to her slightly, extending the sketch to her outstretched arm. "Of course. I shall not keep it from you." His grin turned suddenly wicked, glancing at her from over his shoulder. "But I must ask, did you spend many of your nights alone with that picture of me?"

She groaned. "Not all of us can just conjure whatever we want in the Fade. I'm sure your spirit friends would love to share your evening exploits with me. Mine just happen to be less… transient."

He nodded. "If I am honest, which I will continue to try to be, I have missed you too. And have thought of you incessantly. Even against my better judgement."

"For some reason I find that comforting."

"I seem to have disturbed your resting. I can see if my rooms have been prepared, if you prefer."

She nodded. "That might be the best course, for now. I need time to think. I will call on you in the morning, after we've had a chance to actually rest. Please don't do anything that would anger me. I don't think I could promise an overabundance of patience at the moment."

* * *

She found herself wandering, dressed in a light green cloak of the Inquisition. She always kept a spare or two, in case she wanted to roam unnoticed. It wouldn't fool anyone of rank, nobody who actually knew her, but at least it would prevent the usual gawking. Thankfully her advisors had decided to give her some space, for now. She was sure they were aware of her presence. Probably his as well. Around Skyhold, little escaped Cassandra's eyes. Even with Leliana gone, off to serve the faithful of Thedas, she was observant as ever. Varric had probably warned them that she wouldn't be in the mood for speaking. Not yet, at least. For whatever intervention, divine or not, she was grateful.

She made her way across the battlements alone, until she found herself gravitating towards the Herald's Rest. The sun was just beginning to set across the clouds, bathing Skyhold and the mountains beyond in a golden light. The fortress had become truly magnificent after years of housing the Inquisition—new towers and living quarters were constantly being erected and there was even a small town cropping up amongst the peaks. They were hard to reach, after Haven, but the Inquisition provided well for anyone willing to make the journey and to serve its cause.

It was still strange to think that people followed her. Especially with the variety she currently found at the Inquisition. _There are probably few organizations in Thedas that can boast members of every race and creed in their ranks_. She supposed that saving the world from destruction by an all-powerful corrupted would-be god had its benefits. She hoped she wouldn't be required to do it again, as she thought suddenly of Solas. _His motivations were not the same, but the same description could have been applied to Solas. _She shuddered, imagining red lyrium sprouting from Solas's shoulders, bastardizing his face. _I will not permit it. Whatever it takes_.

She brushed her thoughts aside, for now, and opened the heavy oak door. Firelight and laughter greeted her. To be around people, even if she was silent herself, tended to pull her thoughts from the grim places they tended to find themselves. She made her way across to the barkeep, asking for an ale. Something simple.

His eyes met hers and he nodded. "Of course. It will be ready in a moment." It was part of their practiced routine. He had always been able to sense that she didn't want to be exalted in her tavern. He seemed to realize, without ever hearing the words, that she needed to blend in with her people here. Oddly enough, in the Herald's Rest, she shed the mantle of the Herald of Andraste. She was finally herself again, at least for a moment.

She took her flagon and sat alone, in a quiet corner on the second floor. She liked to be able to see the happenings on the ground, but sit apart from them. She was absently listening to a new song that was supposedly about the anchor that used to be on her hand, but suspected that it probably had a much bawdier interpretation. She was glad that at least someone was starting to see her as a person again, as opposed to some sort of divine object.

"Sovereign for your thoughts, Inquisitor?" Significant chest hair spilled out of Varric's red tunic. He had sidled up to her while she had been distracted.

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "I wouldn't ask such a price from a friend, Varric. They're not interesting enough to warrant it anyway."

He nodded. "I expected you would want someone to talk to. Someone who treats you less like a god or a commander."

"I do appreciate that. Thank you for coming. I didn't think I wanted to speak with anyone, but you're right. It could help."

"I'm always happy to help, then. So, you went to fight the Qunari and you brought back a cranky elf? I sense a story there. What was he even doing? I thought he had been avoiding you."

She sighed. "It's a long story."

He gestured around, generically. "I don't see the world ending just yet. I think we have time, for once."

"I don't know where to begin. There were lies. Quite a lot of them, in fact."

"He should have known that that would hurt you the most. Out of everything he has done, choosing to lie to you was the cruelest."

"I think he did know. I don't think he had a choice. Or at least he didn't think he did."

"There is always a choice. And that's coming from someone who typically makes the wrong ones."

"You both have that in common, then."

He nodded, slyly. "I knew I would find something, eventually."

A sudden squeal erupted from the floor below. "IT'S THE CHAAAAAAAAMPION!" She heard the voices pick up below her as the patrons strained to get a look at him. She felt herself sinking even more deeply into her cloak.

She looked at Varric, trying to glean an explanation. "He's a little late, but we were planning on meeting eventually. Hawke isn't usually as careful to hide himself from his fans as you are, despite my repeated suggestions. I'll go rescue him. You stay here. Try not to brood too much."

He left, walking towards his friend as though he was facing down a demon.

"Come on, now everyone. Settle down. I'll bring him back to you unharmed."

"Varric! There you are. I was just beginning to tell them the story of when we faced down the Arishok…"

She heard her friend sigh, imaging him shaking his head into his hand. "You know I love a good tale as much as any other man, but we'll need to save this one for later. For one, it's not short. Second, you owe me at least a drink. And third, we have someone waiting for us."

Eventually she heard a pair of footsteps ascending the wooden stairs. Hawke was dressed in red, as usual, the symbol of Kirkwall embroidered in white across his armband and cloak. His hair had been cut more closely than he typically wore it and he had been keeping a beard. Clean lines, but enough to cover his face. It made him look older, more mature.

"Inquisitor! I didn't see you there!" She gave him a menacing look, trying to shut him up. "Oh, I see. Disguises. I've never much had a penchant for those." She found herself rolling her eyes. So much for maturity. And discretion.

"Sit down, Hawke, you're making the Boss uncomfortable." Varric pulled a chair out for his friend. "We were just on the subject of betrayed lovers. Something you and I are familiar with, if I recall correctly."

Hawke nodded, playing with a tassel on his robe. "Yes, I would say I am an expert on the matter of unrequited love."

Varric stopped him. "I don't think 'unrequited' is the correct word to describe your situation."

The Champion of Kirkwall sighed. "No, I suppose it isn't. Perhaps 'challenging' would be more appropriate."

The Inquisitor frowned. "Mind filling me in? I have no idea what you're talking about." She was happy to pull the subject of conversation away from herself.

Varric nodded. "Sure, I'm guessing Hawke never deigned to tell you the story. That's one he tends to keep close to his chest. Would you like me to go on?"

Hawke shrugged, sighing softly. She noticed that the mage's usually playful countenance had somewhat sobered.

"Well, it all started with a job we got hired to do in Kirkwall. A dwarf named Anso paid us to find… Well I suppose it doesn't really matter. It ended up being a trap, though not one made explicitly for us. We found our true patron soon enough—an escaped Tevinter slave covered in lyrium markings. Went by the name Fenris."

She looked surprised. "Little wolf? He's elven then?"

Hawke nodded. "By blood, if not by association. The process of gaining the markings rid him of his memories of any time with the elves. Any of that time was probably in bondage and best forgotten anyway. He served a Tevinter magister. Until he didn't. Magisters don't tend to take kindly to runaway slaves. They like to bring them back, dead or alive. We were, unfortunately, caught in the middle."

Varric continued. "After helping us kill the men who were trying to kill him… You know, everyone was always killing each other in Kirkwall. Right there in the streets. Anywhere else it would have been a problem, but not in old Kirkwall. I think the citizens would have complained if the streets _weren't_ covered in blood.

"Anyway, Fenris fell in with us and… our friend Hawke here… fell in too deep. If you can imagine, former slaves aren't always the best at knowing how to reciprocate actual affection. Especially not when the object of their affection is a mage." He chuckled. "Fenris does not like mages."

"He would have died for me, in the end, despite everything. I did not want to see that happen." Hawke's voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it. She sensed a deep pain there, and did not wish to hurt him with her words.

She began slowly, trying to avoid hurting him. "I don't mean to pry, but in our line of work it seems a bit inevitable. If we all decided to not care for anyone who might die for us, we would spend a lot of time drinking alone. From what you say, I doubt Fenris would be living a quiet life in the Hinterlands. He'll probably be causing trouble at your side or not. I have a suspicion that I know where he would rather find himself.

"Selfishly, I have a proposition. We could use someone with knowledge of Tevinter in the Inquisition."

Hawke looked around, acting suddenly nervous. "What are you implying?"

Varric smiled. "A formal request from the Inquisition. That would probably work, you know?"

Hawke's jaw dropped. "No. You can't. You can't bring him here. I… don't think I'm ready. How would I know what to say?"

Varric clapped him on the back. "Don't worry. We can practice. I'll pretend to be Broody and you can tell me how much you _love_ me. I'll tell you how much of an idiot you are. It'll be just like old times."

She recognized the feeling in Hawke's eyes. Longing, but also fear. He didn't know what would happen. Neither did she. They both had a deep and inconvenient desire to be with someone with the uncanny abilities to cut them the most deeply.

"I'll let you consider it, but you should give him a chance to come to his own decision. We nearly died in the Fade. I'm sure he would want to protect you from other dangers, if at all possible."

Varric smiled wickedly at this. "Oh, he's going to be pissed when I tell that one. How you threw yourself at a demon the size of a house and only the Inquisitor held you back from your own destruction."

Hawke frowned, deeply. "Let's not open with that story, if you don't mind."

She found herself laughing with Varric, despite of herself. "We can keep that one to ourselves for the first day or so, at least. We owe you that much."

Hawke groaned and downed his ale.

She didn't think it was possible, but she was starting to feel as though her plan wasn't a desperate attempt to keep Solas from killing everyone. Maybe it could work. They might be able to save the elves and the world both. No matter her misgivings, at least it was worth trying.


End file.
